


Inked In Blood

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, OC warning, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Based on a comic by Cliopadra on tumblr. I love love love their art and sense of humor.https://cliopadra.tumblr.com/Aziraphale gets a tattoo.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 244





	Inked In Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Something clever

The unlikeliest person was standing in Blue Star’s lobby, looking out of place with his tartan bow tie, worn velvet waistcoat, and a cream colored coat, the cut of which would have been more fashionable over a hundred years ago. He was studying a display case full of body jewelry like they were an art display in a museum. 

“You lost, guv?” Blue Star asked, who went by Blue for short. She wasn’t normally one to judge, but the man was wearing an honest-to-god gold pocket watch, and signet ring on his pinky finger like some turn of the century dandy. He looked like some kind of Charles Dickson’s character come to life. 

“No, I’m not lost.” The man said in a thoughtful tone as he tore his attention away from the case. “Tell me, what are those for? They look heavy.”

“They are. They’re ear weights.” Marty monotoned, her man child of an employee barely looking up from the latest gossip rag. Her apprentice was trying and failing to hide his grin, the useless little shit who paying more attention than he let on.

“Okay, so you’re not lost. What are you doing here?” Blue pressed, her tone bordering on rude now. Something was off about the man with the soft white curly hair and the gentlest blue eyes she had ever peered into. 

“I’m here to get a tattoo.” The man said, looking at her like she was the one out of place here. “Obviously.”

“I’m completely booked.” Blue said. She didn’t know why, but something about this guy was bothering her. 

“Are you quite sure about that?” The man smiled, the expression so soft and gentle that it made Blue grit her back teeth, but it gave her a hint to what was bothering her. It was his smile. It was the way he moved, controlled and tight, and the stiff manner he made himself stand. There was something wrong with him, something off that Blue couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Hey, Blue, you actually got an opening. Your 2:30 just cancelled.” Marty piped up, Blue holding back a sigh. Sometimes that kid couldn’t read a damn room to save his life. 

On second thought, he was probably fucking with her, Blue checking the books herself just to be sure, ignoring Marty’s shit eating grin while she did so. Unfortunately, Marty was correct, which was strange. That particular client had been dead set on finishing her back piece this week. 

“It shouldn’t take very long at all.” The man with the beautiful eyes and strange wrong smile said as he pulled what she assumed he wanted inked out of his waistcoat’s pocket. The drawing was no more than two inches long, and drawn on thick weighty parchment of all things. “And I’ll be more than happy to pay you whatever you want for the imposition.”

“This is important to you.” Blue had meant it to come out as a question, but the look on the man’s face made it into a certainty. The design wasn’t especially difficult, and might take her an hour or so tops to do. 

“Very much so.” His smile felt real to her this time. 

“Have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” Cause one should never assume. For all she knew, this guy could be tatted from his tits to his toes.

“No. This will be my first.” The man smiled as he nervously adjusted clothing that didn’t need it. 

“Where do you want it?” Blue fully expected the man to say his back, or ankle, and any other place easy to hide it, or forget about it.

“Right here will do.” Indicting the left side of his face, near the temple.

“I don’t do face tattoos.” Blue said flatly, and despite everything, felt bad about it. The man looked like he had been slapped.

“Goodness me, why not?” The man with the most beautiful sad eyes fretted.

“It will greatly effect your quality of life if I do.” Blue started to explain, finding some gentleness in her for him. She lost business for it, but it was her house rule to never ink anyone above the collar. 

“I’m counting on that!” The man practically wailed, his stiff demeanor starting to turn into something more kinetic. It was not an improvement in Blue’s opinion.

“What?” Was all Blue had time to say, her hands caught up into his own.

“Please? This is incredibly important to me. The placement is vital.” The man pleaded in a tone that was heartbreaking to experience so up close. The man’s touch was warm, making Blue’s skin tingle where they met. She very much wanted to put some distance between them. The man must have sensed that because he let her go with a soft apology. 

“Are you financially stable?” Blue sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The man was begging her with his terrible beautiful eyes, begging her with every fiber of his being. She feared if she turned him down again that he would fall to his knees, and carry on at her feet. 

“My dear, I own my own shop that specializes in rare books just up the road.” The man said, introducing himself without even realizing it. “It’s been there for well over two hundred years, and I dare say that it’s not going away any time soon. 

“Your Mr. Fell?!” Marty asked as he about fell out of his chair from excitement. It wasn’t every day that one got to meet the local urban cryptiod.

“At your service, my dear boy.” Mr. Fell answered with a very dignified tilt of his head, and a new sort of smile that lit up the room. Every business owner in the Soho area knew about the eternal Mr. Fell and his odd little bookshop that never sold its wares. Blue had heard all rumors and theories about both from her various patrons. Mr. Fell looked like nothing she had envisioned, and yet every bit as he should. “Though I don’t believe that I’ve met either of you before.”

“People have a lot to say about you.” Blue said, shooting a glare at Marty as he tried to remember how to stand up without knocking anything over. 

“Do they? I can’t imagine why. I’m just a humble purveyor of the written word.” Mr. Fell said with a twinkle in his eye. Blue knew right then and there that Mr. Fell was a bit of a bastard. She could work with that. “Have you heard anything particularly sordid about me of late?”

He was also a liar. Blue was willing to bet her entire business on that. One had to be a good judge of character in her line of work. People typically didn’t like being hurt, even when it was their decision to pay for it. Any tattoo artist worth their salt and ink knew that anyone could swing on them at any given moment. 

Whatever he was or wasn’t concerned her, but Blue also wasn’t about to pass up on an golden opportunity like this.

“Do you work for the mob?” Blue asked, making Marty spit out his drink.

“Oh, Heavens, no.” Mr. Fell chuckled, clearly delighted by that particular rumor. “But if you are having any issues with them, please let me know. I’ll have a stern word with them.”

“A stern word?” Marty faintly voicing Blue’s own thought. She couldn’t begin to imagine what a stern word from Mr. Fell would be like. He looked like the type of person who would give sweets to naughty children, and call them scamps. 

Blue’s first thoughts were to laugh at such a notion, but her second thoughts reminded her about the bastard twinkle in that liar’s eye. 

“Are you a vampire?” Marty obviously deciding to get in on the action while they could. 

“I came in here just before 2pm in the afternoon.” Mr. Fell said, giving her apprentice a very disappointed look, one that matched her own in judgement.

“It’s cloudy out today, bit more so than usual.” Marty apparently wanted to die on that hill. 

“No, I assure you that I am not a vampire.”

“Did you make a deal with the Devil?” Blue asked, making the purveyor of books bark out laughter. 

“Forgive me, my dears. It’s been a while since I’ve heard that one.” Me. Fell said, looking thoroughly amused about something.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

“Most definitely no.” Mr. Fell said, still chuckling.

“Are you immortal?” Marty asked, clearly still holding out for something vampiric. 

“Everything has its own beginning and ending, even one such as I.” Mr. Fell said, looking very pleased with himself. 

“What the hell does that even mean? It was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, mate.” Marty said after a stunned moment of silence.

“That wasn’t an answer, not a real one anyway.” Blue agreed. 

“And yet, it is the only kind that I will give.” Mr. Fell said with that strange wrong smile of his. 

“Are you a professional dominatrix?” Blue asked simply because she wanted to see how Mr.Fell would act. 

“I do believe you are thinking of a very different sort of bookshop, the one next door to my own.” Mr. Fell answered with a soft chuckle, like he was asked that question all the time. “Do you have any more questions for me, or may we proceed?”

“I still don’t do face tattoos,” Blue sighed.

“Are you mental?! You have to do this one!” Marty earning himself a red hot glare from his boss. Her apprentice shut his mouth so quickly that his teeth clicked. 

“If everyone could calm their tits, I was going to say I’ll do this one.” Blue snapped, shooting a Look at Marty. It promised that they were going to have a long discussion later on about why one does not argue with their boss in front of potential clients. 

“I do believe I hear a ‘but’ lurking in the back.” Mr. Fell said cautiously. 

“But...you can’t tell anyone where you got it.” Blue finished. “I don’t need people coming in here, and using you to argue with me.”

“That’s fair. I will abide by that.” Mr. Fell said visibly relaxing. 

“I have your word?” Blue said, staring the man down. She knew that she had a good stare, one that could quell drunk bikers into a meek silence. It should have worked on someone like Mr. Fell, but it was Blue who was taking a step back with her heart in her throat.

Something about Mr. Fell felt suddenly bigger, much bigger, like ‘barely being contained in the room’ kind of bigger. He still looked like a sweet older man with soft white curls wearing an outdated suit, but there was a presence in the shop now. Blue could see Marty reacting to it as well so she know that it is wasn’t just her, her apprentice’s eyes going wide as he stared back at Mr. Fell.

“You have my word. I will tell no human, dead or alive, where I procured my tattoo.” Mr. Fell spoke. It still sounded like him, but it was like his words were being placed directly into Blue’s head. She felt his promise down to her bones. It held a weight to it that left Blue and Marty trembling in its wake.

And then like a light switch had been flipped, Mr. Fell was just himself again, giving Blue the strangest mental whiplash she’d ever experienced,

“One more question before we start,” Blue said. She really didn’t want to touch Mr. Fell now, but the promise had been made, one that was still making her skin tingle and itch.

“I really don’t think you should, boss.” Marty said faintly from somewhere behind her. Blue realized that she had put herself in front of him without even thinking about it. She was good with that. This was her shop. Marty was her responsibility. She would handle this.

“Be not afraid.” Mr. Fell said with his strange smile. “Ask your question.”

“Why are you getting this tattoo, and why me? You could have walked into any shop. The design of this isn’t complicated.” Blue finally asked. She didn’t think either her or Marty could handle the question that was sitting in the room with them as large and obvious as an elephant.

“The answer to that is actually quite long and complicated, so forgive me if the short version doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.” Mr. Fell began, “I need to show the one of the most important beings in my life that we are on the same side. I want to give him an unspoken constant reminder of that because I couldn’t do so for a very long time. I want everyone who lays their eyes upon me to know where I stand. I chose you because you are an expert of tattooing with white ink, and you have a reverence for your art. It is your calling in life. It is your religion. I would prefer someone devout to do this for me.”

“Yeah, it is. I’ve never told anyone that though. Not once.” Blue said as she blinked back tears. Everything about tattooing was a part of her belief system, but one she only shared by putting ink into other people’s skins. It wasn’t voiced. Blue believed in keeping her religion private. “Is it safe to assume that you’ll be telling this...this being where you got it, and still be able to keep your promise?”

“Yes. Yes, it is, my dear.”

“Tattoos fade over time, and white ink is one of the first to leave the skin. You’ll have to come back in to do touch ups.” Blue worked her words past the fear and whatever else was trying to clog up her throat. This man...this thing...wasn’t here to hurt her or Marty. He...it came in for a tattoo. That was real. Oddly enough, that made everything doable for her.

“I’m not worried about that.” Mr. Fell said with his strange smile. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re not.” Blue said after a moment of consideration. “Well, fuck. C’mon then. Sit down. Let’s get this over with.”

Marty set up her kit while she and Mr. Fell got the placement perfect. Blue noticed her apprentice’s hands shook the entire time.

“Go watch the front.” Blue told him. “You’re no good to me like this.”

“How are you so calm?” Marty blurted out. “After what happened? I know you felt it too.”

“Because I’m doing what I believe I was put on this Earth to do. Because I believe our bodies are little temples that can act as avatars for whatever god we like. Tattooing is adorning those walls, and the fact that I can do that for someone, if I can bring them closer to their true selves or their own personal god, that’s an honor.” Blue said steadily, filled with the calm that came with doing her job, her calling in life. She let the sweet peace of it steady her. “I don’t know how he knew that cause I’ve never put it into actual words, but Mr. Fell is a job now, and we acted professionally while working. You understand?”

Marty nodded. 

“Good lad.” Blue said. His breach in etiquette was excusable considering the situation. “Now go watch the front, and tell anyone who walks in to fuck right off until I’m done.”

“That won’t be necessary, my dear. I dare say that no one is going to pop in during the duration of this, though I have a very good feeling that you will quite busy afterward.” Mr. Fell said softly as Blue shaved down the spot. 

“Is that right? Does your good feeling include that they’ll be fat tippers, and have a good idea about what they want, and not argue with me about pricing?” Blue asked curiously, wondering if she was pressing her luck. If she was in it for a penny, she might as well be it for a pound. 

“I strongly suspect so.” Mr. Fell grinned with that bastard twinkle in his eyes again. That brought more peace to her than anything he could have said. 

“Fancy that. Best be ready then after this.” Blue said, disinfecting next before painstakingly putting the transfer into place. “That good? You like it there? Be as picky about it as you like. It’s staying there until the end.”

“It’s perfect, my dear.” Mr. Fell smiled, reached up to touch it. Blue caught his hand in time.

“Oi, don’t do that. I’ve got to keep the area sterile. You don’t want it to get infected.” Blue told him. It made Mr. Fell look amused for some reason, but he did as she bid. “Now I need you to hold still. I know where you’re getting ink is sensitive, but if you flinch even the slightest, it could ruin what you’re going for.”

“Do what you must, but don’t worry about me. Position me however you like. I won’t budge from it in the slightest for as long as you need to work.” Mr. Fell said, and Blue didn’t doubt him at all about that.

This near to him, Blue could smell expensive cologne that had notes of sandalwood and citrus in it, leather, unsurprisingly ink, surprisingly sweet like apples and spices, and something that Blue had never smelled before and would never again. 

Mr. Fell’s skin was as soft as it looked, and quite warm to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. It wasn’t feverish, but it held the kind of warmth that soaking into you, lingering on your senses. It was like walking out of a dark forest to be loved by the sun again. 

The longer she was near Mr. Fell, the more Blue felt the sudden inexplicably urge to be held by him. Blue knew somehow that she would feel safe and loved, that she could pour her heart out while he hugged her, and she would be allowed to break herself open, to bleed out every cruelty the world had ever inflicted upon her. Somehow, she just knew that Mr. Fell would do this without judgement, and he would hold her until she was able to put herself back together, and she would feel healed.

But she wasn’t going to do any of that. Blue was a professional, and it was her job to adorn his temple. She was here to serve.

True to his word, Mr. Fell did not move, to the point Blue thought he wasn’t bothering to breathe anymore. He could have been a marble statue adorned with tartan and velvet. The only thing that moved was his eyes. They had been staring forward until now, moving over to side eye her before closing entirely.

Until the day she died, Blue would never know how to describe what happened next to her. She could never find the right words in any language to express the experience.

Mr. Fell closed his eyes, and then joy draped itself upon Blue like a bear hug of intangible feathers. She would say it was a sensation of joy, but that wasn’t quite right either. In this moment, Blue had never felt more alive.

“Blue...” Marty said from somewhere off in the distance, his voice muffled like it was coming through some kind of barrier. 

“Mmm?” Blue mumbled, too caught up in the work and this feeling of bliss that was being pressed up to every inch of her body. 

“You okay?” Marty asked, still sounding fuzzy around the edges.

“Yeah.” Blue said, not giving it much thought until she realized that Marty sounded worried, worried and scared. She stopped to look over at her apprentice who was in clear view, there being no barriers in her shop.

“You’re crying.” Marty said, his voice still muffled. Blue was going to point out how absurd that was, that she couldn’t possibly be crying, but then she noticed how wet her cheeks were. Tears were streaming off her chin, the salt of them clinging to her lips.

“Oh...” Was all Blue could think to say. 

“I can pull it back if it’s too much for you. Felt like you needed it is all.” Mr. Fell said softly from somewhere behind her, and again, he felt so much more than before. It didn’t feel like something man shaped was sitting behind her. Blue wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if she turned to find something looming over her.

It didn’t feel evil though, the furthest thing from it actually. Steeling herself for the unexpected, Blue turned back around. Mr. Fell looked how he had before, but now with a half finished tattoo. Whatever it was all around her was beginning to recede, like the lightest of silks woven from happiness and sunlight were being dragged across her skin. 

“No!” Blue yelped, surprising herself and Marty. The sensation paused, Mr. Fell watching her with a patient look. Blue suspected that he could stay like that for as long as she needed, and not be put out by it in the slightest. “No. Whatever this is, it’s fine.”

Resuming where she left off, Blue tried to ignore how touching Mr. Fell was like slipping back into a warm bath. The invisible cloak of euphoria settled back over Blue as she lost herself in the work. As much as she would have liked to work on Mr. Fell for hours and hours, his piece was not that big, not taking very long at all. When it was done, Blue could honestly say that it was some of her best work. 

“Exquisitely executed.” Mr. Fell said, sounding breathless about it. “You have my deepest thanks for doing this for me.”

“Bloody hell, that’s nice!” Marty said, finding enough balls to finally edge in close enough to study Mr. Fell’s new addition.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.” Blue murmured, and it was. Whatever she had experienced had left her in a blissed out daze, but it was beginning to wear off.

“What may I pay you for this favor?” Mr. Fell asked, bringing Blue somewhat back to reality. 

“I think we’re good.” Blue said. It didn’t feel right to ask him for money, at least not for this tattoo. Mr. Fell looked like he was going to press the matter though. “You pay me however you like, yeah?”

Mr. Fell studied her back, and yet again, it felt like something other was in the shop, staring through her and all her layers. It went away as quickly as it came, Mr. Fell nodding at her with that strange smile of his again. He then snapped his fingers a few times followed by some other hand gestures. It should of looked mental for him to do so, but it didn’t. 

“Before I take my leave of you, I have one small request to make.” Mr. Fell said when he was done doing whatever the hell it was. “I need you to give me anything that has my blood on it.”

“Do I want to know why?” Blue asked even as she moved to comply. 

“No, you do not. I would very much like to keep you and yours safe though.” Was all Mr. Fell would say about it. Blue was very careful to put anything that could have come into contact with Mr. Fell’s skin and blood-gloves, transfer paper, needles, ink and the caps they had been in, etc- into a bag for him.

“Before you’re off, can I take a picture with you? No one is going to believe us that you were here.” Marty said, already sidling up to Mr. Fell as he tossed his phone to Blue. She noted that he was very careful to not come into any physical contact with Mr. Fell though. 

“I don’t see why they would do such a thing, but I would be delighted.” Mr. Fell said, posing with his hand gripping the lapels of his coat. It reminded Blue of how men would do so in the Victorian Age. The pose looked quite natural with his outfit.

It was a shame that the picture didn’t turn out, some sort of white distortion covering Mr. Fell’s image. It almost made it look like he had wings.

Aziraphale’s assessment about how long it would take his errand, the errand that Crowley hadn’t been allowed to accompany him with, was right on the money. It was still over an hour or so too long for the demon, who was beginning to pace a hole in one of Aziraphale’s ancient rugs. 

The angel was going to be quite cross about it later on. In his opinion, the Persians didn’t make rugs like they used to anymore, and they hadn’t for over a thousand years. That, and the beetle that was the key ingredient for that particular shade of blue had been extinct for well over 800 years.

“Where the Hell have you been?” Crowley demanded, anxious curiosity eating him up from the inside.

“I found out the woman who runs the tattoo place down the road specializes in white ink tattoos.” Aziraphale said, doing his best to keep it a surprise down to the very last second, even if it meant he had to look funny countering Crowley’s habitual orbit of him. “So I decided to get a mirror version of yours.”

Crowley came to a dead stop, Aziraphale gesturing to the left side of his face, as if the demon could ever miss what was there plain as day.

“Now we match!” Aziraphale said with a grin, feeling very pleased with himself. It took him a moment to realize that Crowley wasn’t returning the feeling. “What do you think?”

The demon could have been cut from marble for all the life he was giving back. He stared at Aziraphale like he’d never seen him before.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s smile began to slip off of his face, worry seeping in to replace it. He hadn’t asked Crowley’s permission to use his sigel. Aziraphale wondered if he had inadvertently insulted the demon by doing so.

The angel only worried himself over the notion for a moment or two, tears beginning to pour down Crowley’s cheeks as he held himself. The demon parted his lips to speak, but only an odd sound came out. Unsure of what to go, Aziraphale opened his arms, offering whatever he could.

It turned out to be the right thing to do, Crowley wrapping his lanky frame around Aziraphale’s softer own in a tight hug that would have broken bones if either of them were human.

Any uncertainty the angel had about getting the tattoo dissolved into nothingness when he saw how Crowley gazed at the beautifully rendered white  
snake that now graced the left side of Aziraphale’s face. The demon’s look held a wealth of love and devotion in it, thin fingers reaching up to trace the already healed tattoo with the lightest of touches. 

“Why?” Was about all Crowley could manage to croak out. 

“I want every time you look at me to know that I’m on our Side.” Aziraphale said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

“Aziraphale, I always knew you were, that you’d come around.” Crowley said, sounding still in a daze.

“I also want to be crystal clear with Above and Below about where I belong and to whom I belong to.” 

Blue Star never had another bad customer ever again. They all came in on time for their appointments, sober, freshly bathed, and knowing exactly what they wanted. They always tipped, and they always tipped well. No one tried to haggle with her, or bitch about the cost. Blue’s hands and back no longer hurt from standing in odd positions while holding a vibrating hunk of metal for hours on end. When there was a fire in the bakery next door to her shop, her business was miraculously spared from any sort of damage. Even stranger, Marty and Blue noted that they never had another hangover again, even when it was definitely merited. 

All things having their beginning and end, Blue Star saw Mr. Fell one last time on her very last day on Earth. He had company with him this time though. The very old woman with hands stained with ink because she been devote to her calling smiled at the mirrored version in black. She understood now, feeling truly honored and complete. 

“Yours was really my best work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos get drunk and piss off the tattoo artist. Your comments get a sweet back piece.


End file.
